


Easier to Run

by mogwai_do



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e13 Revelation 6:8, Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogwai_do/pseuds/mogwai_do
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running is often the easiest option; it's not always the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easier to Run

The view was desolate; grey sea reflecting a grey sky. The air was damp with saltwater - the taste of it in his mouth, stinging his eyes, seeping into his clothes, permeating his skin. He felt like he should get used to it; it didn't take a genius to see tears in his future, an ocean's worth, whatever the outcome.

"Thinking of running, brother?" The thickly-accented voice was easily identifiable and he didn't bother turning to see its owner.

"Why would I do that?" Methos' voice was casual, but falsely so to anyone who knew him well.

Caspian barked a short, harsh laugh, "Why indeed? Why did you run the first time?"

Methos felt his lips twist in a parody of a smile; the only answer he was prepared to give.

Caspian moved closer, drawing level, looking out to sea as Methos did. "You broke us when you left - you broke _him_ \- don't pretend you didn't know."

"He broke himself - I gave him the choice." Inflection as flat and dead as the sky above.

"That was no choice, not for him - you know that."

"It could have been, if he'd wanted." Too tired now to pretend, not with this one, there was no point.

A softly snorted acknowledgement; Methos would never concede the point, neither would Kronos, the problem was that each was right in what they did.

"Why don't you run, brother?" It sounded like idle curiosity, but they both knew better. 

Methos let his breath escape slowly, not quite a sigh, but almost. It was a valid question. It would be easy to run - he could live with the guilt and the shame - he had before. The temptation was almost overwhelming; it would be quick and relatively painless and with distance came ignorance. He could pretend that he didn't know what would happen, pretend that neither of them would die and it would be bliss - for a while. Until the insatiable need to know that had been both blessing and curse in his long life finally got the better of him; he would find out and then he would be as miserable as he would have been had he stayed and watched it all play out. A slow inhale, "Fuck off, Caspian," he finally replied as much for the implied insult as for making him consider running again, but the words held no heat.

"We all know you want to; Silas hovers by your sword, knowing you won't leave without it - without him, not again." Persuasive, insidious whispers, tempting him with freedom while reminding him of the cost. Caspian's gift for torment had never been restricted to the physical, in his own way he was as much an artist, a genius, as the rest of them.

"Fuck off, Caspian," the toneless order had as much effect as it had the first time, which was to say none at all. The day his brother obeyed was the day they took his head out of pity.

"Kronos' plan will work." It was spoken with confidence, but also a hint of question that related not to Kronos' exceptional skills, but to the likelihood of interference. Methos nodded because it seemed expected of him, not sure if he was agreeing with the first part or the unspoken second.

"It will work and the world will change again." Caspian nodded to himself, but his tone was not a hopeful one. Methos slanted his eyes left to watch his least favourite brother, curious. They would never be friends, but like true siblings there was a... concern there that could not be disregarded and allies weren't always a matter of choice. "I will miss the sport; there is little challenge in picking off the dregs."

Caspian had always been fond of the hunt; he enjoyed the selection of prey, getting to know them better than they knew themselves. It meant he paid attention, learned habits, noticed weaknesses and exploited them before finally running his prey to ground. Their Wild Hunt was one of the few things they had in common; the other was that like Methos, Caspian was no fool - he knew the value of having his brothers to watch his back. Methos didn't miss the considering look sent his way; necessity, it seemed, cut both ways. "If you ran, he would hunt you down, however long it took." The prospect of such a challenge gleamed in the dark eyes. "You are more to him than the world."

Methos turned, incredulous and horrified by the prospect, though it was a possibility to which he had deliberately blinded himself. He had a healthy ego, but himself for the world? Surely even Kronos wasn't that insane - except he could very well be, he'd never had a sense of proportion and if Caspian thought so too... But Kronos wasn't the only factor any more. "If I run this time... I _can't_ run this time - I _won't_." A strained near-shout and as much for his own benefit as Caspian's.

Caspian gave him a knowing look, "It's not the witch this time is it? It's the boy, the 'Highlander'." His accent thickened with that ever-present mockery as he seemingly savoured the knowledge.

"And what if it is?" Methos challenged flatly, not so much denial as provocation.

Caspian smirked, "It doesn't matter; Kronos wants him dead anyway." There was a considering pause. "That's why you won't run. Your boy won't follow if you do; he'll just die. I'm impressed brother, I didn't think you had heart enough left for anyone after Kronos took it." Methos gave his brother a sharp look; it had never been a secret between them, but it was hardly something to be spoken of. "Of course, if you stay, you're going to have a big problem," Caspian's voice was musing.

"My problem, not yours," Methos stated firmly.

Caspian chuckled, "No such thing as _your_ problem, Methos, you know that."

Methos finally turned to face his insolent brother, fixing him with a narrow-eyed glare, voice snapping, "Fuck off, Caspian." Reduced to repetition and Caspian knew him well enough to know that he'd succeeded in getting under Methos' skin. Caspian had never yet found an opening in his brother's defences, but in places they could be... tender.

Caspian chuckled again, "Take your own advice, brother. Fuck Kronos blind and maybe he'll forget about the world for while. Or fuck your Highlander until he listens to sense." Methos didn't blink, just continued to stare until the gathering silence was broken by a soft snort of almost-disbelieving laughter. "Neither of them? I didn't think you were so fond of pain, brother - pity. If I'd known sooner, we could have had some _real_ fun."

Methos chose not to reply to that and Caspian laughed outright. Then he leaned close, closer, until his breath skated across Methos' skin, gentler than the harsh sea air and warmer. "We still could - at least with me, you know the wounds will heal." Caspian turned and left the roof, the echoes of his invitation drifting behind him.

Methos let his eyes close as he tilted his face to the sky, the first drops of rain stinging his salt-scoured skin. It would be so much easier to run.

 

FIN


End file.
